Last Trips and Promises Kept
by GirlWithTheInkBlackQuill
Summary: When it's time to leave, remember the best. Unfortunately, that is the one thing Donna Noble cannot do - that is, until an old friend returns to keep his promise.
1. A Daring Escape

The sound of keys tapping slowed as a tall man with a shock of brown hair leaned on the reception desk. Glancing at the newcomer, the ticking of computer keys returned to its brisk pace.

"Welcome, sign in, get a badge. We do not validate parking," the woman behind the desk said in a careless monotone, not looking away from her computer.

"Ah, well, see I'm here to see a friend of mine," the man replied, ignoring the sign in clipboard. "Except I don't know what floor she's on. Don't suppose you could help?" The receptionist looked back up at the man, who was now running one of his hands through his rather spikey hair. Eyes trailing over the brown coat and suit, she pursed her lips.

"Visiting hours are over. Come back tomorrow after eleven."

"It can't be tomorrow. I'm sorry, I really am, but it has to be today." For the first time, there was an urgent undertone and he shifted uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry, I can't. You're not worth me losing my job," the blond receptionist explained sadly. Seeing the disappointment crease his face, she added kindly, "But if you like, I can look up the room number so that you can go straight there tomorrow."

The man perked up. "Really?"

"I need a name to search," the receptionist said with a small smile. Glancing over her shoulder, she pulled up the search program.

"Uh... Try Temple-Noble. First name Donna."

Fingers flying across the keys, the older woman bobbed her head. "Ward 26, last room in the wing."

"Brilliant," the man nodded, suddenly thoughtful. Suddenly snapping out of his reverie, he continued, suddenly business-like. "Well, excellent job, I should be able to pass you with full marks." Pulling out a card from inside his jacket, he flashed it in front of the receptionist. "Surprise inspection from headquarters."

"That was a test?" asked the woman, suddenly worried.

"Oh, yes, but you did brilliantly," he said in a rush. "Now I'm going to go need to inspect some other areas of the hospital. Point me towards Ward 26?" he asked, already walking away.

"Down the hall, to your left, take the elevator to the third floor."

"Thank you," the man said with a genuine smile. "I didn't catch your name."

The receptionist was slightly puzzled. Shouldn't he know this? "Sally."

Even from this distance, she could see his eyebrows jump. "What's your last name, Sally?"

"Robin, but – "

His face fell slightly. "Ah, not quite the bird I was looking for. Still, thank you Sally Robin." And then he was gone with a swish of his long brown coat.

* * *

The Doctor hated hospitals. They smelled of sweat and cheap sanitizer that made his nose itch. Stepping off the elevator and onto the third floor, he quietly contemplated his good fortune. Regardless of the sneeze building in the back of his nose, he had gotten very lucky with the room number. He couldn't help but frown as he calculated the odds of landing the TARDIS in the same room as Donna – a week before she had even checked in. Perhaps he was meant to go back in the past and ensure that the she checked into the appropriate room...?

His thoughts were interrupted by a middle aged woman in colorful scrubs that should have belonged in Pediatrics. She had dark hair and skin and a look that said she was not to be messed with.

"I'm not even going to ask how you got up here," she said, positioning herself between the Doctor and the rest of the hall. Arms folded across her chest, she stared the Timelord down. "Visiting hours are closed."

"Yeah, but," the man couldn't help but grin at her glare, "I'm the Doctor."

"We don't have any doctors in this wing for another two hours." If anything, her glare intensified.

"No? Well, that's alright – " he paused, checking her nametag affixed to her shirt "– Lisa. Can I call you Lisa?" he adds, never losing his signature puppy dog grin.

"I can _call_ security."

Finally, the Doctor's smile faded. "Please. I'm here to see my friend. She's not going to make it to eleven tomorrow." There was a sudden fierceness to his tone that caused Lisa to reevaluate him.

"Who are you?"

"Well, I'd say that I was from headquarters, but I have a funny feeling that you're pretty clever," replied the Doctor, carefully eyeing her. "So I imagine this doesn't mean very much to you." Holding up the psychic paper, he scanned her face for a reaction.

"It's blank."

That triggered another grin from the Timelord. "You are brilliant, you are." His smile faded and he continued. "You're clever, really clever. You can tell when people lie to you. Am I lying?"

She looked at him for a long moment. "No."

"So can I see my friend?"

"Who're you here to see?" she asked finally, sounding tired and letting her arms hang by her sides.

"Donna Temple-Noble." The nurse's eyebrows shot up. "Doesn't she get very many guests?"

Lisa sighed. "Not many. Her kids sometimes. Her husband's been dead for years. She's just too stubborn to die." The Doctor frowned at her callousness. She pulled a binder from a shelf on the wall and flipped through a few pages. "She's in critical condition, which means family visitors only."

"Rubbish rule," said the Doctor immediately. "If you're dying you should be seeing everyone."

Lisa looked up at him carefully. "Is that how you're going to go?" she asked bluntly.

"Yeah, someday," the Doctor muttered. _He will knock four times. _The Timelord shuddered. "Can I go in?"

"We never had this conversation," Lisa said shortly. "I never saw you here," she added, returning to the nurses' station. "Follow the sound of complaints and you'll find her easy enough."

The Doctor nodded his thanks and walked slowly down the hall. A few doors were open, revealing people in various stages of dying. He had a horrible feeling that this floor was not known for its miracle recoveries. Suddenly, there was a shout from the last room on the left. The Doctor quickly made his way over and pushed the door open.

"You call these _peas_?" came an unexpectedly loud voice from the bed. "Are you trying to poison me?"

A short, harassed young nurse was holding a dinner tray. "They're peas. Honest." He looked up at the Doctor. "Are you my back-up?" he half-whispered.

But the Timelord was staring at the figure in the bed.

Donna Noble was hardly the young woman with whom he had parted so many years ago. Fifty years had leeched the fire from her hair, dug wrinkles into her face, and eaten away at her until she bordered on frailty. But the glare she was giving the poor nurse was so _her _that he couldn't help but smile. "I'll take over, thanks. Leave the food on the table." The nurse nodded gratefully and scampered from the room, closing the door behind him.

The gray eyes of Donna Noble turned to the Doctor. "Do I know you?" Her voice was surprisingly unchanged, still as bossy and flippant as ever.

The Doctor shook his head. "No."

"But I do," said the old woman with wonder. She pushed herself up a little straighter in bed. "Planets in the sky. You were in my living room. John Smith." Her brow furrowed. "But that was a very long time ago. And you look the same." Eyeing him now with suspicion, she snapped, "What are you? Alien? Hm? My Gramps, oh, he believed in aliens. Bet his pension every time there was a thunderstorm."

The Doctor stepped forward, clearing his throat. "I can show you, if you like. I can show you who I am."

Without waiting for an answer, he walked to her bedside and placed his fingers to her temples. Taking a deep breath, he carefully lowered the wall that blocked her memories. Stepping back, arms swinging back to his sides, he waited. This was it. If she didn't die now, that would be an extremely good sign.

Donna sat, hands folded, eyes wide and unblinking. For a moment, the Doctor thought he saw a flash of gold in the old woman's eyes and his hearts began to race.

Suddenly, she blinked. And again. Shaking her head jerkily, Donna turned on the Doctor with a vengeance of fifty years.

"Doctor, what the _hell _have you done?" And she added as an angry afterthought, "And why am I not dead?"


	2. One Last Trip

The engines of the TARDIS groaned as the Timelord dashed around the console. Flicking switches and twisting knobs, he ended with a dramatic flourish in front of his guest.

The old woman looked far from impressed. "Not that I don't appreciate the jail break – really, I do – but why am I here?"

"Don't you remember?" asked the Doctor carefully.

Donna nodded. It was slowly coming back, one minute at a time. A leak in the dam that stored her Timelord memories. The little things came first: the crunching of snow under her feet on the Ood planet, the cool metal of the Adipose necklace in her hand, the fiery heat of Pompeii. Somewhere in the background, there was a broader knowledge of each of their adventures; but something was _wrong_ about them. It was more like remembering something she had read in a book than something she had lived.

"It's like bit and pieces all jumbled up inside my head," she said softly, an old frail hand reaching up to tap her temple. "But there's one thing I do remember, Doctor. I remember that this shouldn't be possible."

The Doctor leaned back against the console. "I've lowered the wall that blocks your memories, not all the way, but just enough. Your memories should come back slowly; first your experiences," the Doctor said with a sigh, "and then mine."

Donna's expression pinched with understanding. "But at some point all the memories will be back. And it'll be too much." The Doctor's eyes wandered to the floor. "And then I die."

A silence echoed in the TARDIS.

"But not right away," the Doctor said finally, his arms crossed.

"How long do I have?" The question was simple. There was no sass, no cheek. It was an honest, tender question.

"I don't know," the Timelord replied. "I really don't. A minute, an hour, a day. I can't even guess."

"But why?"

"Because I made you a promise, Donna, a promise you don't remember. But I made it, and I intend to keep it."

The woman finally smiled. "Alright, then. Where are we? When have we landed?"

The Doctor's head snapped up. "One last trip?" he asked, daring to hope.

She nodded. "One last trip."

Carefully, he helped her up from the chair. When she was on her feet, the Timelord grabbed his jacket and sprinted to the doors. "Ready?" Before she could answer, the Doctor slipped outside. Hobbling down the ramp, the former ginger poked her head out the door.

"Nineteen-thirty-two, if I've landed us correctly," he announced, turning in a dramatic circle. "Come on, then."

"Doctor!" Donna hissed from the TARDIS. "I'm in my nightdress!"

"And you look lovely," the Doctor replied with a small smile, recalling the last time he had told her that. It had been Christmas, and she had been in her wedding gown...

There was a small cough. "Excuse me."

Both heads turned. They had landed in some sort of alley, amid several waste bins and disturbed crows. A man had just stepped out of the door imbedded into the right brick wall.

"Sorry, hello," began the Doctor with a smile as Donna stepped out of the TARDIS. There was a flash of psychic paper. "I'm the Doctor and this is Donna."

The man stiffened. "Your majesties," he replied reverently. "I had no idea our show would be graced with your presence."

"Show?" asked Donna, stepping next to the Doctor.

"The special showing of my film, your majesty," the man explained. "I am Charles Chaplin, the humble actor and director."

"And, um, which movie would this be?" asked the Doctor. Donna's eyes had gone wide and she was attempting to form a coherent sentence.

"_A Woman of Paris_," Chaplin replied dutifully. The Doctor frowned. He was off by a decade.

"You're Charlie Chaplin," Donna finally managed.

"Yes, your ladyship," he said with a short bow.

Donna turned to the Doctor. "But he's _CharlieChaplin_!"

"Yes, sorry, you'll have to excuse the Queen," the Doctor said easily, squeezing Donna's shoulder. "Anyway, we were wondering if we could perhaps get an autograph?"

"It would be my honor," said the man eagerly, taking a pen from his pocket. The Doctor patted his coat and finally withdrew what appeared to be a page of a book.

"Would you mind signing this?"

When the actor had finished with an elaborate squiggle, the Doctor handed it to Donna. "Thank you, truly, for everything," he added.

"Will you be coming for the show?" Chaplin asked, capping his pen.

"Um, yeah, as soon as we drop off our things," the Doctor muttered vaguely, gesturing to the TARDIS.

"Well, then I shall see you inside. I'm afraid they will be looking for me." He extended his hand to the Doctor, who shook it briefly. "The pleasure is all mine." Turning to Donna, he added, "And Queen Donna, it is a delight." Unexpectedly, she threw her arms around him.

"Donna," reminded the Doctor gently.

"Sorry," the woman said, removing herself from the shocked actor.

"No apologies, my Lady. How many can say they were hugged by royalty?" he asked with a laugh. Shaking his head and still chuckling, he bowed once more and returned into the building.

The Doctor steered his friend back to the TARDIS. "But that was Charlie Chaplin!" she kept saying.

Once inside, the Doctor shrugged off his coat and turned to the console. "Ready for the second leg?"

Settling herself once more in the chair, the woman frowned. "I thought this was _one _last trip."

"Well, it is, but this is the second part," explained the Doctor, pulling a few levers.

Donna placed a hand to her forehead. "Better make it quick, Spaceman." There was a dull throbbing behind her eyes, like she was starting to get a headache.

The Doctor's face was tight with grief. "I know."

* * *

"Honestly, Doctor, this is ridiculous."

The Doctor led her out of the TARDIS, hands over her eyes. "But it's worth it, I promise." There was soft grass under her slippers that tickled her exposed ankles. The air smelled vaguely of citrus.

"Can I open my eyes?"

"Alright, go ahead."

For a moment Donna Noble blinked in the sunlight. She looked down first and took in the sight of purple grass. It was spotted with the occasional yellow daisy and rolled on forever. Her eyes swept across the skyline, taking in the greenish sky and silver stars. There was a huge mountain range before them which looked oddly Earth-like.

"Okay, where are we?" Donna asked, turning in a slow circle.

"You'll see. I've timed this perfectly. Look at the mountains. Okay, in twenty seconds, the greatest solar flare in a century is going to sweep through this valley and trigger the breeze." The Doctor grinned, checking his watch. He looked like some sort of wonky tourist with a Polaroid slung around his neck. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of the ticking hands, when suddenly –

A light breeze blew past them, increasing the scent of oranges. And in front of them, swaying in the wind: _Mountains. _

As if the entire range was made of paper or Jell-o or streamers, the solid masses of rock blew back and forth in the current of the breeze.

"Felspoon," Donna whispered.

A small alarm went off in the Doctor's mind; his memories were beginning to leak into her consciousness. Forcing a smile onto his face, the Timelord grabbed his camera and turned his back to the mountains. "Come on, Donna, one for the photo albums!" Together, they squeezed into frame with the mountains bent over behind them. There was a soft _click _as the Doctor pressed the button. A blank photo printed out the bottom. "Hold that and wait for it to dry," he said, placing the snapshot in Donna's wizened hand.

Stooping, he plucked a daisy from the grass. Turning around to present it to his companion, he found her leaning heavily against the TARDIS. Both his hearts plummeted. "Donna?"

"Time to go home, I think," she said softly, breathing heavily. Tucking the daisy behind her ear, the Doctor scooped her up and carried her back to her chair in the console room. She clutched the autograph and the still-blank snapshot while he piloted.

* * *

They sat quietly together, Donna lying in her bed and the Doctor occupying the chair next to her. Her breathing was heavy and she wouldn't let go of her souvenirs.

"See, funny thing is, Doctor, I can remember everything now. But I still don't remember any promise." Her voice was faint and her eyes were closed.

He remained silent.

"I was gonna stay with you. Forever. Didn't really work out either time," she continued to murmur.

"Oh, Donna," the Doctor replied in the same soft tone, "you never really left."

The managed to get a small smile out of her, just the tiniest twitch of the corners of her mouth. "Everyone's gone now. Shaun's gone. Gramps. Mum. But me, I kept on waiting for something. I just couldn't remember what." There was a short silence before she added, "I think I was waiting for you. To say goodbye."

Slowly, the Doctor rose from his seat. Carefully, he took her hand in his own. "Oh, Donna Noble. I'm so sorry I've kept you waiting." There was a beat of silence. "Say hello to Wilf for me. And your mum."

He squeezed her hand softly, she smiled, and then the machines connected to her began to scream. The Doctor silenced them with his sonic before reaching down to take the items from her hands.

The first is a page of an Agatha Christie book. One side was covered in text and scribbled on with looping handwriting that read, _COPYRIGHT DONNA NOBLE. _The other side was a quick note from Charlie Chaplin, reading, _To Queen Donna, with my best regards. Always yours, Charlie. _In his other hand, the snapshot had finally developed. It was mainly dominated by their faces, with the slightest hint of alien sky in the background. He left the daisy with Donna. 

Stepping into the TARDIS, the Doctor tiredly checked his watch. As per the history books, Donna Temple-Noble had died at 8:26 PM on the twenty-third of July.


	3. Promises Made

_"No! Please, no!"_

_She collapsed into his arms, and the quiet echoed in the suddenly spacious console room. Carefully, the Doctor settled onto the floor, Donna's crumpled form heavy in his arms. _

_"Oh, Donna. I'm sorry," he murmured. Brushing the hair from her face, the Doctor began to speak to her without any line of conscious thought. "I'll take you to Felspoon. Oh, you'd love it. It only snows there once every hundred years, but when it does, the snow's three shades of red. Can you imagine?" he asked with a smile, looking down to her face as if waiting for a response. The Doctor's smile faded slightly, but he continued. "And Charlie Chaplin. He's brilliant. He fancied me once, did I ever tell you? 'Course, I had a different face back then." _

_The silence was quickly becoming oppressive. Donna's eyes flickered open for a moment before slipping back into unconsciousness. Still, it was enough of a sign for the Doctor. She would wake up soon, wiped blank of her time with him. It wouldn't be good for either of them if she woke up in the TARDIS. He gently moved her from his arms to the metal grated floor, tucking his coat underneath her head. _

_When he stood, stiff and aching, he couldn't help but glance down at her. His hand balanced on the lever that would take them home, the Doctor made a decision. "I'll take you to those places, Donna. I'll fix this. I promise."_

_And for once, the Doctor did not lie. _


End file.
